Forsaken Heirs
by Voyna
Summary: [AU] Postwar. The first bought a Hyūga on sale, paying with his pride and honor. A good bargain, since he had little left to begin with. He only hoped it was a quality womb. The second sold off for the good of those to come. There was little to expect in the department of private life anyways. And the third suffered. SasuHinaKō.
1. Sisters

**A/N:** It has been many years since I have written fanfictions. I believe the last fanfiction I wrote was at age 17 and now I am 23. It feels like one long hiatus. I don't know whether my style improved or whether I am still some senseless Naruto fangirl that barely knows how to write her own name. I do hope that those who will read my little fanfic will not get tired of the subject, the pairing or the many mistakes I tend to make. Please, be understanding, English is unfortunately not my mothertongue.

Please, feel free to comment and send some suggestions. I would love to know how to improve my style.

**Disclaimer: **All of the following characters have been borrowed from the manga and anime "Naruto".

* * *

**Forsaken Heirs**

_Chapter 1 _

Sisters

_By_

_Voyna_

Seated at her kotatsu, she let the brush in her hand slide along the scroll. That love for shoga she had developed was without doubt her father's legacy. One of many, not that he would ever acknowledge it. "_Kakko Fubatsu_", his favourite saying, greatly applied to the art and she could see how _he_ would value such an occupation above any other. It took great control not to yawn and discard the brush in a movement of disgust. Hanabi for one could not be forced to engage in any activity that did not imply breaking a jaw, a leg or an arm of some poor teammate.

_Hanabi_. She would soon turn the corner of the hall, marching confidently towards her sister's apartments. There was so little of Hinata's insecurities, her pauses and stutters in that young body, barely fourteen years of age. It was inconceivable that they could be siblings if placed one by the other.

A smile played along her lips as she traced the character for authority. Inspired by the willow visible from her window, she twisted the traits in such a manner that they were only recognizable to a knowing eye. She would offer it to her father and he would not appreciate the irony. He never did. Especially when the irony was directed at the hierarchy that prevailed in the Hyūga clan. It was one of the presents of war that she had brought back home and that he would have preferred for her to return. But the truth was that she rarely voiced it, her natural shyness hindering her in expressing her thoughts.

A soft grating at her shōji announced Hanabi's daily arrival and the prospect of some moments of tenderness, characterized by restrained movements, awkward glances and careful, standard sentences exchanged.

"Please come in."

The shōji slid to reveal a small form sitting on her heals in a solemn pose. She might not have been able to enjoy the superior art of calligraphy, but Hanabi was no savage. Even if she enjoyed inflicting pain to those often taller and sturdier than herself.

"Would one-san care for some company?"

Her voice was cool, but not unpleasant. The tone was stern, but unaffected. Hanabi was a good girl and the only company Hinata could bear for longer periods of time. Kō was of course an exception. As he had always been.

"Imōto-san, your company is a pleasure to me."

The gravity of those words they offered to one another on a daily basis had a disagreeable effect on Hinata. Or better to say, it was their soothing effect that aggravated her. She was quite aware that for the last two years, her life had become secluded, individualistic and that the comfort she obtained from her routine condemned her to mediocrity. Wake, train, eat, train, gō, train, shoga, tea ceremony, sleep. The visits of her former mentor Yūhi Kurenai and her son Asuma and the missions she was assigned were the only events to liven her everyday life. She suffered from post-war trauma; she knew it and would never admit it.

Unaware of her sister's inner struggles, Hanabi rose to her feet only to re-enact her previous pose as to slide the shōji back in place. The traditionalism that oozed from her every pore almost made Hinata roll her eyes. Almost. She herself wasn't really known to be keen on modern behavior. Yet, at moments, it seemed so liberating to simply march in on an Elders' meeting and demand to be informed what they were plotting and behind whose back. She would have never dared, of course.

Carefully shuffling her tabi-clad feet on the tatami of Hinata's alcove, Hanabi approached, her shrewd, pale eyes glued to her sibling's. Often in moments of anxiety, a feeling she kept securely hidden inside of her mind, or sadness, or any other such reprehensible emotion, she would come to her older sister with a desire to be comforted. There was that contradiction in her that she should never admit her weaknesses yet needed to be consoled. It rendered the ordeal only greater. If she did not voice her wants, Hinata could not fulfill them. Even if Hanabi knew that she would not be refused, she could not bring herself to demand advice or a simple caress. She was emotionally deprived as most Hyūgas. Restrained feelings, frights and wants had made her twitchy and short-tempered and most of all unable to communicate in a proper manner with her peers. Nonetheless, sometimes, when in the presence of her sibling, she had the impression that all the weight that rested on her shoulders was alleviated if only for an instant.

Unlike other members of the Sōke, Hinata had never expected perfection of Hanabi, had never pressured her into conforming to a preconceived mould. Hanabi could not say that she had shown the same delicacy towards her sister. However, since the end of the war, with Hinata having come back as a decorated hero and having brought great honor to the clan, Hanabi couldn't but admire that older sister that had been somewhat of a shameful mystery throughout her youth and seek her company as to understand how such a failure, such a weakling could transform into a _respected_ jōnin.

And that was maybe what truly made Hinata suffer, more than the memories of blood and death. She had to kill, to destroy to finally gain respect, to be finally acknowledged. Of course, it would be argued that she defended her country, her village, that her great deeds had brought visibility to the Hyūga clan and reinstated it as a universal force and that she deserved the respect of her contemporaries. That would imply that the world was white and black, without any nuances. There were the good ones _Konoha and the clan_, and the bad ones, whomever attacked _Konoha and the clan_. She hated this Manichean, simplistic conception of the world that had made her a symbol of righteousness.

A soft touch to her right knee brought her back from her uncomplimentary musings. By her side, Hanabi was seated and permitted herself the rare physical contact. Indeed, Hanabi so intently resting her knee against her sister's was a great show of affection. And maybe need? Having been separated from that younger sibling for most of her life, Hinata had never developed that capacity to read her emotions, or the lack thereof. She always had to wait for Hanabi to initiate the conversation so she could have a try at gauging her mood and acting in accordance. And even then, she would certainly not dare to attract that serious head to her bosom and caress Hanabi's long, brown locks. They were doomed to a lifetime of mutual misunderstanding.

"One-san, pray tell, do you remember oka-san?"

The hesitance in the question gave Hinata a good hint about her sister's inner turmoil. Hanabi asked about their deceased mother only when there was trouble to be expected. It was her way to ask for encouragement. The last time she had wondered about mother was when she had disobeyed her sensei on her first B-ranked mission. The beating she had suffered at the hands of their otō-san had been an atrocious spectacle to behold and had it not been for Kō who had stepped in for her and suffered the punishment of the Bunke, she might have not made it out intact. Therefore, Hinata's first instinct was to demand what she had done again so that a second catastrophe could be avoided. Yet, with her natural sense for diplomacy, she felt that an accusation would not be fertile ground for confidence on Hanabi's part. Rather, she softly rolled back the scroll that was displayed on her kotatsu. Discretely provoking her father with the means of calligraphy could wait. Retrieving a blank one by her left side, she unrolled it and disposed it on the table, careful not to disturb the water and her different shades of ink.

Groping for something by the scrolls, she produced a paulownias box that had been adorned with different expert designs of dogs. A gift from a loved friend. A friend whom she had not seen for two years and whom her heart longed for. _Kiba_. Inside the box, different elegant brushes made of pale hairs were disposed by size. Whatever was said about the _Inuzuka clan_, they had enough natural taste to make excellent brushes and to use them in a very elegant way. Kiba might have had a disposition towards art that was closer to Hanabi's or his mother's, however Inuzuka Hana, his older sister, was a delightful painter and many of her works adorned the great hall of the Inuzuka compound. Hinata had always suspected that her wise suggestions had guided Kiba in making such a sensible choice in a present.

She worried her voice would fail her if she spoke; therefore she willfully lengthened the preparations for what she was planning on performing. Hanabi had too little knowledge in painting to realize that her older sister was desperately trying to regain composure with the means of all those unnecessary preparations, as checking whether the shades of ink were convenient.

"I-I do not remember her as well as I would want to. She died when we were both young. But, from the few pictures father had let me look at when a child, I believe that I could reproduce a good semblance of her. Would you mind if I aided myself with a brush?"

The eyes that were fixed on Hinata's face swiftly moved to the scroll, mostly out of modesty at the sight of her sibling's sorrow. Hanabi often felt helpless when confronted to someone else's emotions, which did not make her any keener at exposing her own.

"Please do."

And in those moments of awkwardness, her voice would become colder and softer than she intended. She sounded uninterested when on the contrary she was wishing to soothe. And that uncomfortable situation often rendered her aggressive and made her do or say things she regretted afterwards. In the earlier years, the victim of her clumsiness was this older sibling whose company she valued greatly now.

"Oka-san was a tall woman, you know. Almost as tall as otō-san. Thin. Elegant. She was not a kunoichi, she did not have the body of a fighter as we do, yet there was something strong that came from here. Especially when she would s-scold me for having eaten all the jam."

Memories long gone of ordinary moments lived by all the children of the world. Hinata felt as if she had the heavy duty of representing the joys and the sorrows she had lived through with her mother by her side in a few strokes of a brush. Her mind was starting to fail her as did her voice.

"Her eyes were the same as your own, imōto-san. Big and luminescent, as if they were l-lanterns. When she was very mad, they would almost pop out just like yours."

A giggle from Hinata and an irritated sigh from Hanabi lightened the atmosphere for a split of an instant.

"The shape of her face was closer to mine. But the rest is Hanabi's, h-her baby's. Y-you were very special to her and when you were born she would show you to all with great p-pride. Often, she would request you for long hours, so that in the end the wet-nurse complained she had nothing to do. Otō-san and oka-san were very proud after your birth. A big, strong baby, you were. With a strong voice, too. And a temper. Oka-san was calm most of the time though. I never heard her raise a word higher than the other. She'd spend most of her time in her little flower garden that was situated in the west wing, right underneath the window of her apartments. She grew lavender and made little floral pouches to distribute all over the dōjō. Otō-san would find them in the strangest places, very often hidden in his training garbs. He would train the novices smelling of _flowers_."

Anger wasn't the only sentiment that made Hanabi's eyes pop out of their head. Incredulity had the same effect. Lips parted, barely visible pupils dilated, Hanabi stared in utter amazement, in actual amazement, at her older sibling. It was quite difficult to imagine their respectable, strict, sometimes harsh, father smelling of lavender and other floral perfumes. Even more unimaginable that he would not strangle whoever put him in such a situation of ridicule. But then _Hyūga Haruna_ could have gotten away with murder where her husband was concerned. He would have forgiven her everything, beside what she actually did. _Died_. That he never forgave her.

"When she would walk through the hallways of the Hyūga compound, everyone would bow to her. The Bunke and the Sōke alike. She was mistress Hyūga to them all. But she never ever used the seal on any Bunke or dared a snide remark to a Sōke. She treated them all equally, with the same consideration and respect. One time, she even interceded in favor of a young Bunke kunoichi for her not to be punished for the failure of a mission. I remember her s-standing in front of the girl and refusing to budge. Oka-san was a g-good woman."

She had little more to add about their mother. Her recollections of her were blurred and scarce. She could have entered in greater detail about her physical appearance, but what good would it have done Hanabi since it was most probably a moral pain that plagued her and demanded encouragement in her mother's memory.

A few last strokes of the brush and what Hinata had been conscientiously painting was complete. Under Hanabi's astonished eye a woman had taken form. A woman with dark, long hair, clad in a kimono and haori. Her face was of an exquisite oval, large pale eyes enlightening it truly. A mouth small and thin so alike Hanabi's, a nose straight and strong, announcing character. In her arms, a small bundle rested, its miniature features relaxed by sleep and at her feet an older child was seated, its hair cropped-short, and its kimono crumpled and sliding of its shoulder.

Maybe was it this serene representation of a past she did not know, or the knowledge that there was a state of urgency that would sweep over the compound in little time while the two of them were seated there, drawing and chitchatting, that got her to finally turn a serious, terrified gaze to her older sister. It must have been that the horror in her eyes was a sight so rare to behold that it immediately infected Hinata.

"H-Hanabi, w-what's wrong?"

Hinata was barely able to get over her tongue in alarm at the sight of so blatant emotion displayed by her normally impassive sibling. Wondering how she managed not to stutter (it was mostly Hinata's job to stutter for the both of them), Hanabi bit through one short sentence, that was to seal their faith.

"Hinata, they will choose an heir."

* * *

_**Vocabulary**_

**Kotatsu: **low table

**Shoga: **calligraphic paintings

**Kakko Fubatsu: **Steadfast and unswerving

**Shōji: **sliding door

**One-san: **older sister

**Imōto-san: **younger sister

**Gō: **game

**Tabi: **socks with separation after big toe

**Sōke: **Hyūga Main House

**Oka-san: **mother

**Otō-san: **father

**Bunke: **Hyūga branch house

**Paulownias: **type of tree

**Dōjō: **training gym

**Haori: **traditional coat


	2. The Bodyguard

**A/N:** To **Little Lily**, my first review, thank you so much! I was losing hope here. Seven years ago, we would get reviews for any BS we wrote, and nowadays it is difficult to get even one. So you gave me hope!

To **MissDupre**, **SarcasticScript** and **MsChifSantos**, you were my first (and at the moment, only) three follows, in that order. It feels wonderful to know that some people actually do wait for updates. It is the greatest sign of acknowledgment a writer could hope for. Thank you so much.

And to **MsChifSantos** particularly, a very big big thank you for having added my story to your favorites! That really surprised me.

A little note, I am quite aware that in the anime, Hyūga Kō is a member of the Sōke and that in the manga he appears at best one or two times, however for the purpose of the story, let us make him a Bunke. And finally, I am not a great fan of idle women waiting to be loved. Beware if you are only looking for a love story, you might be surprised.

**Disclaimer: **All of the following characters have been borrowed from the manga and anime "Naruto".

* * *

**Forsaken Heirs**

_Chapter 2 _

The Bodyguard

_By_

_Voyna_

A-ranked missions had this knack to make one feel crippled. You'd think that at age thirty-two a man was at the height of his abilities, ready to take on the world. That was certainly not the case with a member of the Hyūga clan who had two masters to serve.

On one side, being a Konoha shinobi, he had to obey various superiors, remember all the subtleties of the shinobi hierarchy and train in the art of protecting Konoha. On the other side, being a Hyūga Bunke, he had to obey various superiors, remember all the subtleties of the Hyūga hierarchy and train in the art of protecting the Sōke. Preferably _one_ particular Sōke.

He disliked these long journeys that lasted for weeks. He disliked the stench of sweat that would cover his body. His sweat, the sweat of his teammates, the reek of unwashed clothes, the stink of urine that stuck to the skin. But what he disliked most was to leave _her_ unwatched. When it came to her, his cool Hyūga front crumbled, he became prone to hyperventilation, insubordination and other undesired side-effects of being Hinata-hime's kagemushi. _Being_? Of having been. He had been her kagemushi. He was no such thing now that she had proven herself reliable and secure enough in her own abilities to avoid all the blunders that were her trademark in the past. She did not need him anymore. And it was arguable whether she had ever really needed someone like him.

He had often chosen to obey his leader and master over his own instinct when it came to her. Seven years later, _that_ battle between the late prodigy Neji and Hinata-sama was still haunting him. The image of her blood seeping through her clenched teeth was burned on his brain and he could not get rid of it seven years later. He had wanted to intervene, to get that beast off of her. Yet he had not. Because of Hiashi-sama's orders. Because of years of intense training in the art of obedience. He had been like a dog with his tail between his legs, frightened at the idea of repercussions to come if he ever defied the head of the Hyūga clan. It had been a mistake. And unfortunately, it had not been his first failure regarding her. It had been his biggest though. And he had failed her over and over again ever since. Maybe was it a good thing she had grown to be able to take care of herself after all.

A shove made him lose his balance momentarily.

"What are you thinking about, Kō? You look like someone just stole your rāmen bole right under your nose."

Trust an Akimichi to make food references when someone was lamenting his past faults. Lifting his eyes to the mass of a man strolling beside him, Kō shot him the trademark Hyūga glare. Despising and superior. A glare that was not often ridiculed, nor underestimated. Nonetheless, in this case, it did not have the expected effect. The Akimichi catching the Hyūga's evil eye, burst out laughing, his enormous body shaking and his voice attracting the surprised stares of Konoha civilians.

"That has not worked on me for over seventeen years!"

"So loud, so early in the morning."

The Aburame at Kō's right had never been one to appreciate noise of any kind. It most probably had to do with the fact that his ears had been buzzing continuously for the last thirty-two years and that he was a man prone to migraines. He usually didn't leave his targets enough time to make a sound.

Walking through the streets flanked by his two teammates of the last twenty years, he was relieved to observe that Konoha was exactly how they had left it two weeks ago. One effect war had had on all shinobi was this clenching feeling in their gut when they left their village or when they were coming back to it after days of absence. It had taught them to always expect the worst. And if the worst did not occur, to go to a temple, light some incense in the honor of the ancestors and to keep praying to the kami that the worst does not occur for at least another fifty years.

Heading towards the Hōkage tower, they passed smiling faces, joyful laughter, and a buzz of activity on the marketplace. Civilians and shinobi alike kept a positive state of mind. And all that productive enthusiasm of theirs that kept the economy and their military activities rolling clashed strangely with the ruins surrounding them. Infrastructure was still to be rebuilt. Konoha had suffered great economic losses during wartime and had not yet collected the necessary capital to undertake the reconstruction of civilian buildings. Shinobi infrastructure of course had been the first to restore, with the financial help of the Hyūga and Inuzuka clan. Go figure, the doggies had a safety capital to be kept for a rainy day. And even when they would get the minimal amount of money needed, Kō could just imagine that the Hōkage would bring that enormous rack of hers over to the compound to see whether Hiashi-sama and the clan could spare some change.

"Someone's thinking about Tsunade-sama."

The only way to shut an Akimichi's mouth was to kill him cold. And unfortunately, Kō liked his head attached to his body too much to risk taking down an ally in the middle of the village. He wouldn't make it to the gates. Despite him being a Hyūga, he wasn't god as many seemed to think since the end of war. Running through an ANBU infested village after having committed gruesome murder on a respectable member of the Akimichi clan was a little bit too much. Hiashi-sama could have maybe pulled it off, Kō certainly couldn't. Snapping out of it, he turned his most fierce glare to his teammate, who was only wishing for an outburst.

"That's the face. Whenever you have to report to Tsunade-sama, that's the face you make. And once you're done speaking, you stare at her rack."

Suffocating with indignation, the Hyūga felt heat rising to his face and could only imagine that he turned a color suiting Hinata-sama much better than himself. His temples started pounding and he could not keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"I certainly do not stare at her breasts."

Another explosion of hilarity made some more heads turn. It wasn't enough that he was as big as a bear, the Akimichi had to growl like one too whenever he laughed.

"Yes, you do! He does, doesn't he, Bug-man? Always, whenever I look at you, you have your eyes fixed on her cleavage. But hey, I am not judging, here. They are enormous; it _is_ tough not to look at them when they constitute ninety percent of her body mass."

The Aburame simply sighed in exasperation.

"You of all people shouldn't criticize other people's body mass. Now, shut up, you're giving me a migraine."

And like that, the bear-man's attention was diverted from Kō who was left to his dark ruminations.

"Wait, wait! Are you implying I am fat?"

"I am not implying anything; I am just stating the obvious."

And this was exactly the moment you wanted to snap back into it. When those two started going at it, there was no way a third party could remain sane.

Climbing up the Hōkage tower, there was some more jostling, shoving, complaining and laughing. It felt good to be back home.

Some signs of recognition were exchanged between them and known shinobi that were coming back from different departments. Some handshakes were given. If nothing else, the war had had the effect of calming the rivalry between different clans. You could see Inuzuka and Hyūga exchanging signs of recognition and respect, Aburame and Nara playing Gō on the steps.

Walking past a group of young ANBU, masked and armed, Kō had a strange feeling of déjà-vu at the sight of their hair sticking out from behind their mask. A blond fox. A pink otter. And a black wolf. Yet, he did not have the time or the energy to wonder where he had already seen such a peculiar trio.

Maybe he had taken part in a tracking mission with them. It was rare enough to send Oinin with ANBU because of their general differences in philosophy. Usually, trackers from the Hyūga, Inuzuka or Aburame clan were sent with the ANBU as to defuse the bomb before it even had a chance to start ticking. Whatever the case, he was not particularly willing to renew the acquaintance and therefore passed beside them with the usual nod of recognition. However, before he could take one more step, a hand grasped his arm and made him turn to face the fox mask.

"Kō oji-chan! It's you!"

It is as if all hell had broken loose in his head. That voice. That annoying, screechy voice. The voice of the man to whom they owed their lives, the protection of their children, the survival of the village.

Before he could open his mouth to answer the talking mask, a punch came flying and hit the ANBU right on the side of the head.

"What are you doing, you idiot! You are compromising your identity."

Now it was the otter mask that was screeching. Her too. The loudmouth with the medic training. Therefore, the remaining wolf-mask must have been …

"Let's go, dobe."

They marched past the Hyūga, dragging the fox-mask along.

"But wait, I have to ask him about Hi …"

Before he could finish his plea, he had been hauled away passed an open door. At the same time, from the same door, three Oinin emerged, masked and armed as well. Meeting his eyes through the slits of their blank masks, they hesitated for a split of an instant. One of them growled softly, actually growled like a dog. Regaining their composure however, they walked passed him without any comments or signs of recognition. But he could have sworn he felt the one that brushed his sleeve inhale deeply a few times, as if he were an animal sniffing him up.

Turning around to follow them with his eyes, he noticed that the growling and sniffing one was of the same stature, the same built and had the back of his head similar to another of the two Oinin. But his chakra pattern was all wrong. Twins, they had to be twins. And he didn't know any twin Oinin. Then again, that chakra outflow on the growling one was … none of his business.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder he turned around, almost expecting the captain of the ANBU awaiting to land him a square one on the jaw, only to find his Akimichi teammate gauging him.

"What is it with you exciting the Special Forces today? You don't appear particularly sexy to me."

And with that diamond of wisdom the strange subject of his male magnetism was closed before he even had the time to ponder it.

Being immediately received by the Hōkage as soon as they announced themselves to her secretary (who was as submerged in paperwork as the previous had been, but would hopefully face a better fate) they proceeded towards her office with as little enthusiasm as could be expected from tired, hungry and stinky shinobi.

Entering, they found a busty, pale-haired woman seated at a large wooden desk. Tsunade-sama in all her splendor. However, instead of finding sake cups strewing the desk and the ground around her, they were greeted by an eerie emptiness. When the Hōkage's office was clean, you knew you were in trouble. She didn't want to have anything cluttering her surroundings when she aimed for your throat.

And fair enough, she was seated at her table, her arms crossed and her pale eyes directed directly at them.

"So?"

What a nice way to be greeted after two weeks of having rolled in dead fish and the such.

"We found it."

In such moments, it always fell on the Hyūga to chat her up. He had this ability to remain professional with the most ungrateful beneficiaries of their services. The Aburame would have simply walked out on her and sold what they brought back to the highest bidder. Akimichi would have eaten her. As simple as that.

She motioned for them to approach. She was eager to see it. It had been lost for years now and she knew that Konoha hadn't been the only to look for it. Since Killer Bee had disappeared, there had been a race between the nations to see who would find the pieces of Samehada. And it seems that Konoha had won.

Tsunade had sent Oinin, ANBU, jōnin to locate the pieces, to bring them back so that they could rebuild the sword and submit it to Konoha's glory. Kami knows she would have sent Hyūga Hiashi if it had meant success. War had taught her one thing. You had to strike first and the only way to do so would be to have the required machinery.

Samehada was what they needed. The problem was whether they would find the right chakra to satisfy its cravings once it got restored. It was known to be terribly picky and to be longing for great quantities of chakra. The quantity was not the problem; she had the perfect candidate in that department, it was the swords sentiency. It thought, and often more coherently then those that wielded it (or that it wielded, depending on how one looked at it).

"Show me."

Her voice was greedy, Kō noted. That damn thing had the same effect on all, it seemed. The first time he had grabbed the handle, he had felt the most delicious surges of chakra. As if his lungs had been inflated with air after hours of having been holding his breath underwater. He would have chopped someone else's hand had they reached for it at the same time.

If that thing ever got a chance to get to someone's head, they would all have to go bankrupt in buying incense and temples would be flooded with people before they could say the "w" of "war". He could get why the Hōkage would want to fragment the thing further, but certainly not reconstruct it.

However, the first thing you were taught in the Hyūga clan was to watch your tongue or have it cut from your head. He would not discuss the decisions of the head of their whole country. He had better things to do. Like get a bath as fast as this was done.

The Aburame shrugged out of his heavy, shuriken loaded coat as to expose a bag strapped to his back. Sliding it off his shoulder, he threw it right onto the Hōkage's table, inches from her hands. Shaking hands.

Tsunade felt nauseous. She knew this had been and will be a dangerous gamble. She didn't really want to touch the thing, but she was compelled to do it nonetheless. It had to do with chakra, she was not naïve enough not to know what the thing did to people. Undoing the ties on the bag, she slid a quivering hand inside the bag and retrieved a piece of what must have been the blade. It was covered in scales, dark, shining scales. She let it drop onto the table. Passing her hand over her eyes, she sighed. She knew she was pulling a long shot with this.

"Were there any complications?"

Yes. Yes, there were. They could have been killed a thousand times.

"No."

"Is there anything else you have to report?"

Besides the fact that they, or at least he, believed that this was not the best way to implement peace in an ex-war torn country, there was nothing to add.

"No."

"You can dispose."

That was the shinobi lifestyle. Dispose. Whenever you were done cleaning up the mess of the great and mighty, you could dispose. And the worst part of it was that he didn't mind it that much. He could do that, dispose. Especially when disposing implied finally rejoining the compound and getting a nice, hot shower before being summoned in front of the leader and the elders as to recount his voyage and what it was that in the end he had retrieved.

But certainly not before his blabbermouth teammate had a chance to pass one last, disgraceful comment.

"Yo, he didn't check out her boobs today."

It was with simple wishes of rest that he passed through the gates of the Hyūga compound before a new wave of folly assailed him. Before he had even the time to great the warrior that had opened for him, he was ushered inside and grabbed by the shoulders.

Words were thrown in a great brouhaha at him. He could not make any sense of whatever they were talking about. Heirloom. Leader. Hiashi-sama. The elders. Strength. Young. Old. However one word did make enough sense for him to seize the first person close enough.

"Hinata-sama?! What is wrong with Hinata-sama?! Has she been sent to a mission?! Is she ill?!"

The already frightened eyes of the Hyūga guard he had grabbed dilated even more at his harsh interrogation.

"Hanabi-sama's position as heir has been revoked … _The elders_ will make a final choice between her and Hinata-sama in a week of time … The one that is not chosen will be _sealed_."

His world became blank. He had the impression that he was walking through the mass of yakking Hyūga, however no sound seemed to reach his ears. It was as if he couldn't hear anything. His stomach felt as if it had been pounded by a rock. He had the unclear feeling that he might be sick any moment now; however nothing such as bile passed his lips.

_Sealed_. That could not be. Both were too old to be sealed. Sealing was a complex operation carried out on very young children, no older than five years of age. There were no cases known of sealings on older subjects. They could not seal Hinata-hime. It was impossible. Illogical.

Why after all these years of having slighted her would they reconsider their first decision in making Hanabi-sama heir. She was a strong girl for her age and could easily take on any jōnin. She lacked in diplomacy and was a mediocre strategist at best, it was true, however Hinata-sama was too soft to be heir. Hiashi-sama had said so himself, she was not meant to lead men into battle.

He did not know how he oriented himself towards the Bunke quarters, and even less how he ended up in front of his own house. And then it hit him, he had never wanted to reach the house or the Bunke part of the compound. He had been looking for something precise. And it was there, in front of his eyes.

Seated on his front porch, her legs under her, looking very much like a kitten, was Hinata-hime. Clad in a simple pale yukata, a haori protecting her frail limbs from the breeze, she was smiling at him. That shy, defenseless smile of hers. Her dark hair was braided and her bangs had been pushed aside by a band, exposing her unmarred forehead.

"Hinata-hime …"

Her name escaped his lips as a prayer.

"Kō-san … ano … I was w-waiting for you to come back. I was expecting you."

* * *

_**Vocabulary **_

**Kagemushi**: literally shadow warrior, bodyguard

**Oinin**: hunter-nin

**Dobe**: idiot

**Sake**: rice alcohol

**Yukata**: cotton kimono


	3. Fate

**A/N: **Three reviews for now (one for chapter 1, two for chapter 2, maybe 3 for chapter 3, let's hope so)! Of which two are without any doubt the best reviews I could have ever hoped to receive. **SarcasticScript** and **MissDupre**, the reviews you offered me were simply amazing. It feels so good to be actually read. I will keep on making an effort to give you the best of me through this story.

To the new followers of FH, welcome. **LuvHinata**,** Kazuhiko123**,** hecate0808**,** PresentDayPresentTime**,** Mlle Yo Yo**, I hope you all will enjoy this new chapter.

A little warning, this chapter is a pass or die kinda thing. I wrote something in here that could either repulse my readers and I will lose all 8 of my follows or will be accepted smoothly.

I can't wait to be done with all these introductory chapters (one remaining, with finally some action in it, chapter 4 will be fun in a gruesome way) and to finally get to the main point of this story: enticing, exciting, intense SasuHina goodness.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **All of the following characters have been borrowed from the manga and anime "Naruto".

* * *

**Forsaken Heirs**

_Chapter 3 _

Fate

_By_

_Voyna_

She had often wondered why the house or flat of a single man looked so empty. Looking around the living room, she blushed at her thoughts. Kō-san was the age when most Hyūga are married and have already a few children. Especially Bunke members. Yet, he had refused numerous times to take a bride even if many pretty girls of the Branch had been very willing to improve their status by marrying a man that was known to be very close to the Sōke. Uncomplimentary comments about his sexual orientation travelled throughout the compound and were the butt of the joke.

Surely a woman wouldn't have accepted to be living in a house that had an unused kitchen, no furniture whatsoever in the living room and at best a futon in the alcove. Not that she had seen his alcove. The heat on her face intensified. She felt as if she was violating her closest and most intimate friend's privacy.

Then again, it was arguable that when one lived surrounded by a few thousands Dōjutsu users, there was little place for privacy. Whenever he went to the washroom, all the Bunke surrounding him on a one-kilometer radius could see what he was doing. For example, at the moment, if anyone cared to activate the Byakugan, they would see him showering.

She felt like slapping herself. This certainly was not the place and the moment to think about a man showering. What was wrong with her, she was losing her mind. At least a little bit more than usually. She had problems with men. One would have taken in account that a man that had changed the sheets of her futon when she had peed on them during her sleep at age four would have been considered as genderless by her. Well, it seemed not. She was quite attentive to any rush of testosterone in a one-kilometer radius, and it had nothing to do with the _Byakugan_. Or with attraction, so to speak. It was mostly fright. Her experience had taught her that there were many evil women, but at least three times as many evil men. Better be safe than sorry.

Looking around the emptiness of the room some more, a sense of sadness overwhelmed her. When Kō-san's oka-san was alive, the house had been cluttered with niceties. With little things women used to embellish their dwellings. But he had thrown everything away, kept nothing at all. Not even a picture of her. And it had been wrongly deemed as cold-hearted. Hinata knew her Kō-san. She had practically been raised by him and his mother. There was nothing cold at all about either of them. He had loved his oka-san dearly and had lived through his mourning in his own way. That constituted of chasing away any memories of the only woman he had ever known. The only one, beside Hinata.

She knew about mourning; she understood him. Approaching tentatively the window that was opening on the house's backyard, she peeked outside, knowing what she would see. A few meters away from where she was standing, there was a house with an eerie feeling to it. It was not especially scary per se. It certainly was no black castle with an eternal rainy cloud resting above it. It was a traditional building, like the one she was standing in, similar to all Bunke houses. However, when one looked clearly, there was a feeling of utter abandonment surrounding it. It looked forsaken. The grass in its backyard was growing in unruly turfs; the windows were scratched and covered in water stains.

Whoever had known the owner of that house would have also known that he would have never permitted such lack of taste. Neji was one to believe that the exterior had always to match the interior. He had been pedantic to a pathological degree. But he was gone now. And there was no one to liven up that house, to change its damaged windows, pull out the weed that had taken over its yard and to greet it after a long absence.

He was _gone_.

And she could not accept it. The same churn in her stomach reminded her that she still hoped she would see him push the shōji on his veranda and step out from the darkness of that forsaken house, shake his head at the mess he was seeing, sigh and roll his sleeves up.

She was so taken up in her thoughts that she did not feel him approach. He knew what she was looking at. Whenever she came to visit him, she would eventually go to the window and look out of it, little shivers crossing her spine.

Arms crossed, eyes lost in the distance, with the sun of the afternoon playing a game of shadows on her face, she looked ethereal and lost. It made him want to scream. He had always known that _he_ would eventually have the best of Hinata-sama. Whenever she succeeded in building something by herself, whenever she finally mustered up her courage to voice her thoughts and desires, he would find a way to shatter her resolve.

When they were children, he mocked, humiliated, hurt her. When they were teenagers, he tried to destroy her physically. And when he saw that he could not shatter her resolve with force, he found a way to snidely creep inside of her thoughts and contaminate them. He became her beloved nii-san. Masterfully pushing everyone aside, he took the positions of deity in her personality cult.

Uzumaki Naruto had been merely problematic. Hyūga Neji had been dangerous. And he had won. His last little show of sacrifice had only been the finale.

Kō wanted to extend his hand and grab her shoulder, bring her back to reality. He had this need to snatch her away from the memory of her lost cousin. But he knew he couldn't do it. A psychiatrist would have been needed for such a case, and there was no way that a Hyūga of the Sōke would ever admit a psychological weakness to anyone. Had he had it his own way, Hinata-sama would have been followed from her earliest days.

Had he had it his own way, Hinata-sama would have never been born to the Hyūga clan.

Her breathe became erratic at once. A shiver, strong and uncontrollable, ran across her spine. With the same need as his when he had seen her seated at his porch, she let a name pass her lips.

"_Neji._"

This unrestrained sorrow brought a dreadful memory back to both Kō and Hinata's minds.

* * *

**Flashback **

She had awoken covered in sweat. She had dreamt of _him_ again. He visited her in her sleep every night since she had come back from the battlefield, a month ago.

Precisely speaking it was not a dream. It was not an illusion that her mind had fabricated by itself for the only purpose of torturing her and rob her of her repose. It was a flashback, her brain's way to remind her of what had been.

In fact, the dream was so perfectly similar to what had happened in truth that it only made it more painful for her to wake up in the darkness of her alcove, in the silence of the sleeping compound.

She had been standing outside the medical tent that had been provisionally erected to care for the wounded. Every day, she had been working to sterilize, close and dress wounds during long blocks of hours that would drain her from all her chakra. Sick of the stench of pullulating wounds, of urine and vomit, she had decided she needed a breath of fresh air.

He had appeared out from between two white tents, his eyes scanning the surroundings. To her, he had looked so tired, so worn and yet intense. The dark circles under his eyes had only enhanced their eerie paleness. In the light of the lantern under which she was standing those eyes seemed new to her, even if she had been surrounded her whole life by similar ones.

However, no others had ever drilled so intently through hers, as if desiring to reach the soul. He had approached her without a hesitation as if it was precisely her he had been looking for. It was fate that had decided for the two of them to meet at that very instant, under that very lantern. At least, that is what his eyes were telling hers.

Hypnotized, she hadn't pushed him back when he had snaked a hand around her waist and brought her body against his, crushing hers breasts against his hard chest. His kiss had not been gentle, it had been avid. A gasp on her part, only response of her consciousness to the attack, had permitted him to slip his tongue past her lips to explore her expertly. He had claimed her. Marked her. Against all the rules, the hierarchy of their clan or sanity. And at that moment, there had been no one else on her mind, no regret, no other desire than to submit to that will stronger than her own.

She would forever remember his harsh breath passing over her earlobe when he whispered:

"This is _fate_. You are mine, were mine, will be mine to do as I please."

And then, he had _died_. In front of her own eyes, he had died. To protect her miserable life.

And she dreamt about him, about that only exchange of desire that had ever transpired between the two of them. She dreamt about him since the end of the war, every night.

Passing a shaky hand over her eyes, she tried to calm her nerves. The smallest noise, such as her ragged breathing, would alert some guard and she didn't especially want to be scanned in the middle of the night by some invisible man. When she had finally thought her emotions in control, she had heard it.

"Fate."

_Fate_. Whispered in a harsh breath. She had jumped to her feet, damned be the guards.

Looking around herself, scanning her alcove, she had found nothing. However an instinct pushed her to run towards the window and look outside. And then she saw it. A shadow, a shadow was walking towards the willow. She would have recognized that shadow among hundreds.

In a spontaneous act of violence, she broke the window with her fist and screamed with all the air in her lungs.

"Neji!"

The shadow continued advancing, losing itself in the falling branches of the tree.

Caring little about her bare feet, about her dishevelled attire, she jumped out of her room and ran towards the willow herself.

Blinded by the strands of her hair, by the branches that obstructed her eyesight, she screamed his name numerous times. Tearing leaves off, pulling branches, she had walked through the willow's green protection only to reach the tree's coarse trunk with Neji nowhere in sight.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone! Neji!"

And he had come to her.

Kō had come to her. In that crazed state, where she wouldn't have been able to differentiate Hiashi from Hanabi, he had taken her in his arms.

Woken in a frenzy for no apparent reason, he had rushed towards the main house, a chill freezing him to the bone. He knew in the deepest part of himself whenever she needed him and he came, he ran, he would have flown if he could have.

Nuzzled, comfortably in his arms, sobs and cries ravaging her small, thin form, he had carried her out from between the branches.

On the porch of the main house, guards were awaiting, shielding Hiashi and Hanabi-sama from a potential attack.

He had simply passed by them, without even sparing them a glance, Sōke leaders or not. They were as much at fault for this as he was. He had brought her back to her room, laid her on her futon and kept watch.

**End of Flashback**

* * *

Kō had seen that damned kiss. He had been one of the injured in that tent. He had looked at Hinata-sama leave at that fatal moment and of course, he couldn't have let her go out without at least scanning the surroundings and keeping an eye on her. His Byakugan was effective enough to go long distance and he had preferred to drain his chakra than to let her unguarded an instant.

He had seen everything and couldn't have done anything. Scream to all the Hyūga in the tent that their heiress was having her mouth explored by a Bunke's tongue? What would have been the final result of it? Neji dead? He was too precious to die at the hands of anyone in the clan. Hinata shamed? They had always been waiting to see how she would end up. He had no doubt that someone would have found some incriminating evidence against her, that she had lead Neji on, that she had provoked him in doing something so brash.

He had done nothing. A was his trademark when it came to Hinata and Neji's relationship.

And here he was, looking at her expectant glance. He knew the delusion that was playing in her mind, with the button set on repeat. She wanted to see Neji exit that house so she could run after him.

And that got Kō wondering. What if it had been him that had taken her lips in such a forceful manner? Would she have mourned his death? Would she have given in to his desires, which constituted mostly of having the right to kiss the dust she walked on?

These were not the type of thoughts a man of thirty-two should have had about a _girl_ of nineteen. Especially not a girl whose sheets he used to wash in secret so she didn't get scolded (kami knew what scolded implied in the Hyūga clan) for nocturnal inconsistency.

Extending his hand, he grabbed her shoulder tightly making her jolt and slam back violently into the wall that was reality.

"Earth to Hinata-sama. Still day-dreaming, are you?"

His voice was falsely joyous and it rang wrong to the ear. Nonetheless, it seemed to have had the desired effect since she immediately turned her eyes towards him. They were big in their surprise, however after an instant; she regained her composure and rewarded him with her soft, shy smile. That kept much of its sadness.

Taking a step back, he opened his arms. That was a signal she knew, yet she hesitated. Normally, she would have thrown herself in the only embrace she had ever really known He might have been a man, but she had never feared him. However when she had tried to hug him previously, on the porch of his house, he had evaded her.

"I was reeking of fish! Now, Hinata-sama, don't be like that."

She giggled, but did not take a step towards him.

"Ano … how did you c-come by that? Did you sleep with cats?"

He sighed, letting his arms drop to his side. Walking slowly to the center of the room, he let himself fall on the tatami with an inelegant 'thump'. His exaggerated movements made her giggle some more. Approaching slowly and carefully, she took place right in front of him, her eyes glued to the spot between them.

He remembered that look well. When she had been preparing her genin exams, she would spend long hours seated like this with him making her repeat her lessons while his mother stuffed them with onigiri.

"To make a long story short, I was sent to Kirikagure to retrieve something. And let me tell you, sleeping under a ton of dead fish and getting almost chopped into pieces by tuna processing machinery can sound quite adventurous, but it is less agreeable than it seems."

Now, she was laughing. A rare sight to behold and he was drinking it in, he knew he would need that memory when they started talking about the latest developments concerning the next leader of the Hyūga clan.

Well, they had to get started, didn't they? Better introduce the subject as fast as possible to get it over with.

"Hinata-sama … I know."

She had a shrewd mind. She could see through anyone's falsity faster than any other Hyūga. Most of it was her survivor instinct. Before he had even opened his mouth to say those few simple words, she had already imagined where this would be going and what the outcome of the conversation would be.

He, of all people, had the right to know what path she would be taking and for what reasons. She had set her mind, something she seldom did because of her mediocre, indecisive nature.

"H-Hanabi-san's position as heir has been revoked and there are talks that the elders want to replace her with myself."

Her eyes stayed fixed on the tatami. And that was the type of leader she would be, she knew. She had a total incapacity to speak up in front of one person, let alone would she have the capacity to hold her own when facing the snide remarks of the elders on a daily basis.

"You are a decorated war-hero; it brings prestige to the clan. It is logical, on a purely political basis, that they would want to place you at the head so that they can reap benefits from it. Konoha owes us money, but lending to Konoha is like throwing it down the drain. They need a respected figure to appear in front of the villagers as to be able to regain some of the control they had over Konoha affairs before the war."

His analysis was cold. And the pure truth. But his voice was not vindictive. And that is something she had always loved about him. He was as frank as any other brash shinobi, yet his tone was always even and his words were never cutting.

"Hmm. Y-yes, it would make sense that they would use a known face. However, on a more rational basis, H-Hanabi-san would make for a better leader. After all, what is regarded highly in the clan is not as much the diplomacy or the image that the leader projects of himself, but his ability to take advantage of whatever situation he finds himself in. Hanabi-san is aggressive; h-however she strives well in the chaos she creates. She has a strong hold."

He looked at the top of her head, lost in his thoughts.

"Hn. Hanabi-sama would make as good a leader as Hiashi-sama, but that is where the problem lies. Hiashi-sama is not what could be called a very obedient model. For the elders, who always love to have more influence than needed, he is a great hindrance. And he doesn't exactly uphold the standards set by tradition. In that department, you would be of better use to them. Easier to maneuver with."

A sharp intake of air informed him that he had touched a sensitive spot, which he would have preferred to avoid. But the truth was cold and unforgiving. He had demanded numerous times for them to give Hinata more responsibilities, and they had refused him. Every time, without an exception. She had been deemed, even by the end of the war, too meek to lead men. And now, all of a sudden, when they saw that her glory did not fade as was expected, that people still asked for her and that her capacities did not evaporate in thin air, they wanted to erase nineteen years of injustice by giving her a shot at heirdom.

"W-whomever is not chosen will be sealed …"

That was what scared him, ate at him, destroyed him from the inside. From the very moment he had heard that there was question of sealing, he had known the outcome of the whole business.

And now that Hinata-sama had raised her eyes to meet his, he could see the resolve in them. And it made him want to weep. Scream. Break something.

"If they choose me, I will abdicate in Hanabi's advantage and get sealed."

Strange how her voice never failed her when it came to seal her own fate.

As for himself, he needed a hug. Fast.

* * *

_**Vocabulary**_

**Dōjutsu**: eye technique


End file.
